


Total power exchange

by Fallen_Feather



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aftercare, Anal, Bondage, Crying, F/M, Gags, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Painful Sex, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Somnophilia, Subdrop, TPE kink, Total Power Exchange, Violence, consentual non-consent, domdrop?, intense mutual orgasm, possible trigger warning?, tease and denial kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-15 06:03:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13024797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallen_Feather/pseuds/Fallen_Feather
Summary: Please read the tags.  Twice.Then read the notes.  Twice.“And sometimes I want to be held down,” I say. “Not just kept still but really unable to move. I want to be owned, to be truly without choice or decision and just used, hard and ruthless. Stripped of everything but the feel of my body and what’s done to it, so long as it keeps me full and useful and needed.” I rock again and he’s nearly there and that swell builds in me again, letting me drift. I make sure he sees the truth of it in my eyes when I tell him, need him to know it. “Right now, I want that to be you.” I kiss him with tears in my eyes and he’s burying himself deep, too deep and it hurts but just right. His hand tightens a little more around my throat.“Don’t forget you said that.”





	Total power exchange

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so... possible (probable) trigger warning. The type of total power exchange in some of this story is intense and sometimes delves into the realm of non-con/rape territory. Except it IS consensual. Really. Neither party will harbor regrets or residual fears or severe bodily damage or any kind of psychological damage when all is said and done.  
> That said, read the tags. Twice. Then reread these notes. Twice.  
> There is rough, intense, painful, violent sex in here. There is a point where “stop” is said, repeatedly, and repeatedly goes unheard. They push their own limits PAST safe, sane, and consensual, except they mutually consented to doing so, because they’re stupidly gone on each other and actually trust each other to that degree.  
> This might well be the only story with extreme warnings and is (largely) a rehash of my own experience. And being older and wiser now, my advice: Don’t try this at home. Or a motel. Or anywhere, really, because while it did rock my world, solar system and galaxy, I’m mature enough now to see it for the brand of youthful stupidity it really was. So, go forth and be kinky, but go forth and be SAFE.

  
     “You...are so fucking gorgeous,” Evan murmurs. I blink down at him, still shivering.  
     “You could help, you know,” I suggested with a shaky laugh.  
    “Uh-uh, nope. I’ve got the best seat in the house right here.” He was looking straight up the bed from the foot of it, his head near my spread ankles. He’s hard, obviously, but doing nothing about it. I rub contentedly, but not teasingly, my eyes on him, skimming over his face and strong jaw, wide shoulders and muscular arms that have both held me and held me down, his flat stomach and that dark trail leading down to the neatly trimmed hairs that encircle his (very impressive) dick, currently leaking down onto the sheet below.  
     “If I didn’t think I’d get arrested or institutionalized, I’d paint you just like that... all day. Every day.” His dick twitches at that and I roll in that direction til it’s just a foot away, but do nothing but admire, my fingers still sliding away through my own slick folds. I ease forward enough to brush my nose against it, lay the lightest kiss at the perfect center between balls and head. Evan’s breath catches when I lean back. He eases forward toward me, tugs my hand away, pushes at my upper thigh until I prop it up, then blows a wave of warm air over my pussy and I shiver with a tiny gasp. I echo the movement with his dick, just warm air passing over, but he shivers for me, too.  
     I lay a sweet kiss on his inner thigh and he echos it, following up with a quick lick that ends nearly at my pussy lips and it’s like a game now, one-upping each other again and again until we’re both breathing hard and the head of his cock is just resting on my tongue, nothing else, waiting. When he rolls his hips a bit forward, he slides past my lips and groans before tugging my hips forward and licking a quick line over my clit so that I gasp around his cock, my lips still loose, waiting for instruction.  
     Now the game is simon says, it seems, but wordless. He pulls away a little, taps my jaw open until he’s satisfied, then slides in, down and back out again with a sigh, repeats it, then again before he’s spreading my thighs and licking lightly over my clit so that I whimper around his cock. He slides in a bit deeper and kitten-licks over my clit again and I groan around the weight of him in my mouth, my hands clasping at my sides, eager to touch but denying myself. He begins a shallow thrust into my mouth that has my eyes drifting shut. I clearly have some kind of a kink for just letting myself be used, and I know my pussy is drenched, feel him licking and then lapping at it, hips still rolling shallowly down, fucking my mouth oh, so gently.  
     He’s kissing me breathless a minute later, and we’re tasting each ourselves on each other’s tongues and I feel loose and lazy and wonderful when he’s laying down on top of me, appreciating my stillness.  
     “You love it, don’t you? Just giving your body over to be taken.” His voice is husky and warm and I nod, breathing into his mouth with mine. “What if I do something you don’t like?”  
     “Then I’ll tell you to stop,” I rasp back with a small gasp when the head of him rubs firmly past my clit.  
     “What if you can’t talk?” It’s said almost teasingly, but I can hear the honest question under it.  
     “Then I’ll show you that you need to stop.”  
     “And what if you can’t move or speak?” His eyes are dark and wide and serious.  
   “That only happens with people I trust to stop when stopping is needed.” Absolute honesty, quietly spoken and true. I let him see it in my eyes. He’s the only one to ever have been given all of it — the only partner I’ve ever trusted that much. He kisses me, hard and rough and I let him, let him delve in as deep as he wants, and we both come back up gasping.  
     “Let me have you. For now, for tonight.” His voice is raw and needy, but if I speak I know mine’ll be the same. I nod, my eyes wide and probably a little feverish. _Yesyesyesyesyesyesyes_...  
    “Don’t move unless I tell you to.” I blink at him quietly and he smiles. “Good girl.” I shiver, which is apparently allowed (thank god, I doubt I’d survive otherwise).  
     He maneuvers me onto the very center of the bed, kneels back and just gazes over me, like he’s memorizing every inch, before he arranges my arms above me, hunts down my bra and ties my hands efficiently, looping one shoulder strap over an open rung of the headboard.  
     “Did you ever read any of those short stories on the site?” I assume he meant ‘his’ stories and I give him an excited look and bite my lower lip. Hell yes, I did. Every one of them. Followed by multiple cold showers. And the story that comes to mind now is the mind-control/hypnosis story. Helpless and desperate and out of her mind with lust. I let out my breath in a shuddery wave. He smirks a little.  
     “Yeah, that one,” he murmurs, leaning down to brush his cheek over mine. Whispers “Everything... everything I tell you to.” _Fuck yes_. He doesn’t need mind control to have me pliant and willing. Then he rolls away and grabs his jeans, then shoes. Then jacket. Then the ice bucket. He winks and vanishes out the door.  I’m shivery with anticipation by the time he returns (a full minute, tops) and he drops both shoes and coat, but leaves his jeans on, his eyes roaming over my body. If being naked makes me feel vulnerable, being naked while he’s not is a whole other category (of hot)I don’t even have a name for.  
     He spreads my legs, pulls them up a little at the knee so they sprawl out. I blush when he smirks a little at the little puddle my pussy is leaking out, kneels between my splayed legs with the denim of his jeans brushing my calves and then just looks his fill.  
     I’m biting my lip and tempted to squirm, just to see what he’d do, but I don’t want to undo the look in his eye. He looks hungry and covetous and wild like it’s some crazy instinct that’s running the show, something deep in our genetics that hasn’t been needed for thousands of years.  
     He starts with my feet and inspects every tiny bit, between my toes and over the arches, up my ankles, then calves and knees. He begins rolling me when he gets to my thighs, to make sure there’s no spot undiscovered. He’s learning me, I realize, every tiny part he hasn’t yet seen in the light of day and though I can’t see it, he’s leaving his fingerprints over (literally) every last inch of me.  
     I’m too turned on to be embarrassed when he gets to my groin, lays down flat and gets all up in my business, spreading every fold wide, tucks fingers up inside that make me catch my breath before he hikes my leg up over his shoulder and gives my ass the same treatment, efficient and blush-worthy. I’m breathing a little hard now, but settle when he moves on to my hips, my waist, only gives my ticklish bellybutton a quick review before I’m rolled again, fingers roaming everywhere and proving with each touch that his strength alone is enough to _make me_ submit. I may be ‘letting’ him have me, but I’m his to take. For now, for tonight, he owns me.  
     I sink into that quiet spot in my mind until he’s done. It feels like decades or more before he’s straddling my chest and looking down into my eyes and unzipping and guiding himself into my mouth, so hot and musky and perfect and I feel as grateful as he looks gratified. He can’t go deep from this angle, but that’s not the point right now. He controls me, and we both know it. He pulls out when he begins to strain, leans back and sweeps his palm down over my eyes, closing them.  
     His light touch feathers over my lips, down to my chin, sweeps up to my ears and then down my neck and it’s all I can do not to moan when I realize he’s following the same lines I did when he asked for a self-tease demonstration. I’m trembling by the time he gets back to my nipples, circling around before scraping and pinching and I’m gasping by the time he’s mimicked every move I’d made, shuffling down to my belly, my waist, my pussy to continue.  
     The first time he taps onto my clit, my back arches and it all disappears. I can hear him at the foot of the bed, but this silence is telling.  
     “I did say.... _not_. To move.” His voice is gravel and molten steel and I shiver hard, quivering with need or excitement and maybe a touch of fear. “Stay here.” Its practically a whispered command and I doubt anyone would be stupid enough not to obey.  And he leaves, the door swinging shut behind him.

     Staying is easy. Staying _still_ is less easy. I feel oddly disappointed with myself for succumbing to my need to wriggle, but hell. I doubt he could’ve done better.   

     He returns with something that sounds both jingly and heavy. It lands on the floor with a noisy clunk and a zipper is opened. I’m shivering a bit with the rush of cool air that followed him inside, but I stay as still as I can, eyes closed.  I suck in a breath when something cool attaches to my left ankle, then another on my right and then another to my right thigh above my knee and yet another on my left. He finishes off with the last of them on my wrists and runs a soothing finger down my cheek, leans close to kiss me, soft and sweet.  

     And now is when he gets to the serious business of tying me down. The cuffs are heavy leather, with buckles. The fact that he’s had these with him the whole time? Hell yeah. Somehow I doubt he’d expected to use them. At least, not on someone else. I have this amazing mental image of him strapping himself down like this, teasing ruthlessly and efficiently until he just can’t anymore, popping like a champagne cork and I know what it is to be on the receiving end of that heat and passion driven out of him and right into me.

     It’s hard to keep my eyes closed like this, I want to see him when he sees me this way. I want to see that feral edge, that wild glint in his eye that wants me to need him for every soothing touch, every sharp twist of pleasure/pain. Hell, I just want to see myself helpless and small beneath him, taking whatever he gives me, needing whatever he gives me.

     My arms are spread out to the top corners of the bed and don’t budge. My thighs are held out wide, nearly to the point of pain and my feet are nearly the same place. I have no leverage except what I can shove from my neck and upper back, which is practically nil. Nothing is hidden. I shiver, just feeling him walk around the bed without touching, just looking. Just watching. There’s a whispery sound that follows him that i can’t begin to define. But it stops, gently traces over my skin, first just under my breasts, then gone, my inner thigh, then gone. Then my belly down to just over my pubic bone, then —  
     My back is bowing, only not, because he’s got me cinched down very, _very_ well and my clit is throbbing in time with my heartbeat and I’m gasping, lip wobbling. I swear I can hear him smile, know how blown his pupils probably are.  
     “You can move if you need to. I like to watch you writhe a little. Keep those eyes closed.” His voice is soft and a little awed and the next snap is over my left nipple which makes me jerk with a little whine, but I don’t gasp until his mouth closes over it after, leaving me choking on air a little.  The next strike is to my clit again, a little harder and I jerk, legs trying to close but unable. My other nipple, twice. I choke down a small dry sob, I want to see. Want to beg with my eyes just to watch his darken. My inner thigh, this time, harder and I groan, twisting a little in my bonds. The next one to my clit brings tears and he’s breathing nearly as hard as I am, then my clit again, which brings a sob that he kisses away, deep and desperate and I try to beg just with my tongue, uselessly.

     When he crawls back up between my thighs, it’s his skin on mine I finally feel, perfect and sweaty and when he slips in, it’s just right. The next snap falls on my too-sensitive nipple and I clench down. He enjoys that enough to repeat it with the other and trades off again and again until I’m sobbing, not just from those quick pains, but the slow pace he’s settled into, hips rocking forward and back, but the wrong angle and not deep enough, and so out of time with those quick snaps they’re almost disconnected, neither is nearly enough to get me into the zen zone where I’d glide through it until he punches the tempo up enough to tip me over.

     I feel shaky and off, wonderful and terrible. He must see it in my face because he leans close and covers me, warm and comforting, gathers me as best he can while I’m still pinned wide. His hands cup my face softly and his nose is brushing mine while he’s still rocking at that barely there angle and I’m shivering like I’m cold or actually shocky, but he stays, caressing and comforting, wordless until I settle a little, then gone again to give me more of the same. My nipples feel like fire until he gathers them between his teeth, soothes with his tongue, blows soft air just over the tips.  
    He’s devastating me one molecule at a time, a metronome off beat and now my shivers don’t stop, _won’t_ stop and I’m on the edge of something not orgasmic but just as all-encompassing. My whole body twitches restlessly and my tears are unending, a steady stream and when he gathers me to him again, I mentally crawl into his arms, his lap, burrow in and hide against him.  
     This time he just lays on me, in me, around me motionless until I calm, then kisses my brow, my cheeks, my slack lips like a reward. It feels like one, right until he pulls out and I want to beg him to stay in me, to fill me, to use me, to abuse me, just _stay_. But he doesn’t go far, straddles my chest again and feeds himself through my lips and past my teeth and then deeper, then as deep as he can until my air is gone and my arms tighten in their bonds and he pulls back, let’s me breathe and dives in again.  But it’s here with him using my mouth like a convenience that finally settles me, relaxes me enough to let him just take.  
     He’s breathing hard and slow to match the glide of his hips while he caresses my hair, smooths away the last of my tears with his thumbs. When he finally pulls back, he rearranges until he’s back just inside my pussy, cock still hard and once again driving those too-shallow thrusts forward over and over and those little sharp smacks to my nipples until I’m an even worse mess, twitching madly, my breath short and choked and then he just _keeps going_. I’m sobbing and writhing and I need him to give me more, give me something because all I can feel in my head and chest is this devastating hollow I’d do anything to fill, anything just _please please please._

     The next thing I’m really aware of, he actually does have me gathered in his lap, curled tight against him, my shivers unceasing like a low thrum under my skin and he’s whispering over and over into my hair, arms tight around me keeping me from flying apart.  
     “So good, so perfect, I’m right here, not gonna let you go, shhh.” He brings a water bottle to my lips, helps me sip until I’m sated but he leans away to set it down and I’m suddenly keening, panicking a little and grasping at nothing to keep him close. But he’s back and his arms wrap tighter until he’s all I feel and I can breathe again.  
     My headspace is someplace I don’t even have words for, like nothing I’ve ever felt because right now he’s everything keeping me together. It’s not sub space, or even subdrop, but everything that’s him and this feeling is huge and I feel so, _so_ small.  
     But he rocks me in his lap, arms tight around me and readjusts until he can slip a finger into my pussy and my breath catches because yes, _yes_. The shivers subside even more when he rests his thumb over my aching clit and finally everything slows and yes. Yes.  
I can breathe, I can think. I can sleep. So I do.

     Waking back up to that same strange headspace is odd and disorienting and he must feel me wake because he shushes me before I can move too much. I’m still curled into a ball, but laying on my side with him curled around me, his dick half-hard and tucked into my pussy and I feel fabulous, soft and slow and a little adrift where I’m not anchored down by his body where it’s pressed tight to mine.  
     “You alright?” He murmurs against my hair. I nod but don’t really feel the motion. “Need anything?” I shake my head, feel the brush of my cheek against his arm so I nuzzle into it, gently and lay a soft kiss there because I can. “Sleep a while,” he whispers. “I’m not done with you yet.” And I do.

     When I rouse again, he’s spilling down my throat with a small choked sound, his large hand so gentle against the back of my head, like he was trying not to wake me. Any other time I’d be seriously weirded out by someone taking liberties like that, but it’s Evan and I’m his and he tastes wonderful so I tighten my lips awhen he pulls away to catch a little more flavor before it’s gone. He huffs a little, scoots back down until his breath is soft over my face and he runs a thumb over my lip. Quicker than I feel I’m capable of, I nip it between my lips and suck it in, hold it on my tongue and suckle a little, because any part of him in me is a good thing.  
     “Open your eyes, Sam,” he says quietly. I do, a little surprised that it’s still day, or maybe day again, the sun streaming in around the curtains. But all I see are his hazel eyes dark and softly possessive and a little serious. “Still not all here, are ya?” I shake my head a little, careful not to let his thumb loose, because nope. My head is somewhere in low orbit and I’m just fine with that.  
     The shocky feeling has retreated to a dull hum and all that’s left is _want_ and _need_ and _his_ and I try to put all that in my eyes, blink passively at him. “Good girl,” he says quietly and I shiver a little, pussy going a little more damp. “Because I meant it - I’m still not done with you yet.” My breath catches with desire and relief and that he must see because he’s kissing me deep, licking his own flavor off my tongue, sweeping past my lips and just taking.  
     When he pulls away he keeps his hands still, grasping my face but we’re both breathless and trembling a little. I can’t stop looking in his eyes, memorizing them, the delicate mix of greens and blues and grays and smattering of gold flecks before they fade, his pupils shoving them aside as they widen.  
     “The things I want to do to you are positively indecent.” His voice is so quiet, trying not to shatter this bubble we’re in, his thumb sweeping past my lip again until the tip of my tongue darts out to caress it. “Pretty sure a few of them are illegal in most states.” He’s watching my tongue play over the tiny whirls and ridges in his skin. “What would you let me do to you right now?” His voice is rough and deep and a little desperate, eyes on my lips.  
     “Anything,” I answer quiet and true. There’s a pause of about a half-second then I’m on my back, his hand hard around my throat but not squeezing and pinning me with his body, his forehead on mine looking — dangerous. _Very_ dangerous.  
     “ _Don’t_ ,” he rasps. “Don’t _ever_ say that to me,” he’s breathing hard and he _is_ hard again, low against my hip. “Some of the things I’d like to do aren’t entirely sane, definitely not consensual.” My breath catches, but not in fear but in want. His eyes shut tight, like he’s fighting off the impulse to prove it.  I tug my leg to the side, but only to curl it up over his hip, settle his dick into my wet folds and rock softly, sliding against him.  
     “Tell me,” I whisper. The hand at my throat squeezes, not hard, but more a reminder. His eyes are a little wild when he opens them, shakes his head. “It’s me, _just me_.” I rock a little harder and I know his dick is maybe too sensitive for this, but he grinds right back and we both catch our breath.  
     “I want to fuck you,” he whispers, nosing into my hair, kissing sweetly, “until you _beg_ me to stop,” nips the tip of my ear, nudging my head to the side. “Until you’re screaming for me to stop,” he sucks my earlobe in, swirls his tongue around it. “Until you have no voice left, no lube left, til I’m fucking you painfully raw. I’d fuck you unconscious, maybe even fuck you bloody, and then make us both cum again, and again and again until we both black out.”

     I can feel his tears in my hair, but he’s still grinding away, breath harsh in my ear, but coiled tense, like he’s waiting for me to shove him off and bolt for the door. I spread my legs, nestle him in between and lock my heels behind him, keeping him. My ankle cuffs and thigh cuffs are gone, but my wrists are still tight and buckled together. I loop them over his head, loosely, until he lifts his face, then a little tighter to keep him there.  
     “And sometimes I want to be held down,” I say, “not just kept still but really unable to move.” I rock into him, let him feel me drenched. “I want to be owned, to be truly without choice or decision,” I rock again, a little higher toward the head of him, ”and just used, hard and ruthless. Stripped of everything but the feel of my body and what’s done to it, so long as it keeps me full and useful and needed.” I rock again and he’s nearly inside me and that swell builds in me again, letting me drift. I make sure he sees the truth of it in my eyes when I tell him, need him to _know_ it. “Right now, I want that to be you.” I kiss him with tears in my eyes and he’s slipping into me, burying himself deep, too deep and it hurts but _just right_. His hand tightens a little more around my throat.  
     “Don’t forget you said that.”

     I only struggle when I run out of air, when I panic and instinct takes over. That’s the one thing I don’t let this blind sexual devotion take away, because I’m not sure of his control right now. I’m not really sure of mine either.  
     That lingering taste of his seed on my lips is the last I’ll get for a long while. He won’t cum in me, which hurts in an odd way, leaves me weeping over the loss. But my tears satisfy something in him, and that almost satisfies me. He keeps me in tears, one way or another.

     It’s not long before I’m riding that freakish high that’s caught between despair and orgasm, but he doesn’t relent this time, doesn’t comfort me until he’s exposed every part of it, poked at it, fiddled with it until I’m a useless mess of trembling muscles and willing flesh. He sees what I want and refuses me, tears out that little part, remolds it and gives me back what I need, whether I want it or not.  
     The edging is only a little of it. He encourages it, digs deep, scrapes the bottom and fills me in, little trickles at a time. There’s nothing easy, nothing gentle. But nothing bruises, nothing bleeds and I’m still a shivering wreck by the time night falls. In a way, so is he.  
     “Open wider.” A sharp smack on my lower back. “Wider.” I’m on my stomach, hands strapped at 10 and 2 at the top of the bed, but trying in vain to get my knees wide enough under me to match my elbows. Close, but not enough. He won’t fuck me til I do, but he’ll spank my puckered ass again ruthlessly if I don’t. He hasn’t put more than a fingertip in me for almost two hours. My tears are of desperate frustration and near-despondent failure. I hide my face in my pillow and try again. So close, _so close_. The next snap of the crop is on my tender pucker and I flinch, a new sob tearing out and forced into my pillow and I somehow stretch a little more.  
     His hand is gentle where it sweeps over me, calming and reassuring and I don’t deserve it because I’ve failed him and I welcome the next blow, stretch my thighs a fraction more.  
     “Wider. _Wider_ , now.” The next blow lands and I freeze while the shock rolls me under with a gasping silent sob. “Good, better. Wider.” I stretch til I think I might rip, but when he crawls behind me, spits repeatedly over my over-sensitized hole, rubs the head of him across it, stinging and burning, I think he can see how needy I am for him, for any part of him. He rams into my pussy to the hilt then out again just as fast before working his way inside my ass in one slow long shove and rests there, running a soothing hand up and down my back.

     It hurts, worse than I thought it would and then I’m shivering hard again and I’m swept back into that wonderful ( _terrible_ ) place of pleasure/pain and brain-numbing shockiness. Every aching, stinging bit of skin becomes secondary to the utter bliss of him filling me so deep. When he begins that gentle rock of hips my shivers cease abruptly and he places a gentle hand to my upper back, leans in, leans more until most of his upper bodyweight rests there and all I get is tiny sips of air under the bulk of all the raw power that is him.

     He turns my head to the side, pins it there with a hand wrapped tight in my hair and through the mirror and tears I can see, I can watch as he takes me, so very, very small beneath him. He’s watching too, but looking down, watching himself disappear into my tiny stretched-out ass and back out, over and over. His expression is utter bliss and he darts his eyes up to my face again and again to see the devastated shock I’m in, has this look like he sees me, this, _us_ as beautiful.  
     My face is slack and tear-stained and I’m silent, not enough breath to even groan at the too-slow ( _too much_ ) pace he pumps into me. He’s trembling too, reaches down to squeeze his dick hard at the base before he pulls out and away, keeps my ass cheeks spread wide so he can inspect my gaping hole, uses both his thumbs to keep it stretched out, smiles a little when he spits straight down into me before releasing his thumbs and letting my ass swallow it up. Then he shuffles backward off the bed and disappears into the bathroom and leaves me there propped up empty and temporarily forgotten.

     I hear water running, know he’s cleaning up and I’m desperately hoping it’s so he’ll cum in me, even if it’s deep in my throat where I won’t get to savor it. He won’t, I know. He’s determined to make me earn that privilege and his mild, sometimes angry gaze tells me I haven’t yet. He returns, a cup of ice water in hand, and leans against the wall, just watching me breath in silence, my ass still propped up and bared obscenely wide. He strolls forward casually and without a word tips a thin stream of ice water onto my aching asshole. I jolt, hard, and he narrows his eyes at me. He sets the cup aside and aching limb by aching limb pulls my legs down until I’m flat again.  
     I’m not surprised when the thigh and ankle straps come back on. I’m trembling again because I know I’ve disappointed him and it feels awful. He reclips my wrists to my ankles, my ass up again and thighs clipped together, most of my balance is on my shoulders and neck. Then he retrieves the ice. Just a single cube, but a fat one. I’m crying again because I know this will be horrible but he seems determined to push every limit I have and I know that I’ll take it because this is what I asked for. This is what I gave him.  
     “I know you’ll hate this. I know it’ll hurt. But you _will_ take this because when it’s done, we can rest for a bit. You can sleep a while with me wrapped tight around you. If you take it well, I’ll even let you sleep with me _in_ you. You can do that, right?”  
     I nod, even through a sob. _In me._ He’ll be in me. He trails that single cube over my ass cheek, then down to my still-flaming pucker. He shoves it in, not even giving me a chance to protest. My sob is at least half muffled shriek but I don’t move, _won’t_ move. He uses his thumb to shove it deeper and I groan, my next sob full-throated. Then he tucks another in. I shudder hard and only barely keep my balance so I hold my breath until the next is in, another after that, then breathe carefully for another and then he’s done. Beyond that terrible chill I don’t feel much. I can hear words, but they mean nothing. I feel his hand steadying my hip, then a sting that brings everything back in a quick rush of sound and color and his harsh breathing.  
     “Keep it in, just a little while.” I’m keening now and I don’t know how to stop. The crop lands again like an electric shock but he steadies me, runs a soothing thumb over my hip, absurdly gentle in the face of this torture. The blows are spaced unevenly and my ass burns so, so much. My sobs are choking me but he’s unrelenting and murmuring praise and only after he’s done can I hear myself whispering _please please please_ between gasping wet breaths. He plugs up my ass somehow and keeps that hateful melting chill inside even as he’s tucking his rock hard dick deep into my pussy, perfect unrelenting pressure on my cervix. I’m shuddering and twitching in his arms, my mind and body at odds with how to deal and I feel myself begin to fly apart but can’t. Won’t. He’s wrapped tight around me, fucking hard little jolts into me, keeping me whole and here and his.  
     “Sleep,” he whispers into my tear-soaked hair. I’m helpless to do anything but obey while he fucks away my pain.  
     When I wake, he’s curled tight around me, snoring a little into my hair. My ass is sore and I know I’m sloshing a bit inside but I stay still. He has one arm wrapped around me, hand cupping my breast, the other arm tight lower down, hand cupping my groin, holding me close and intimate. So I lay still in his arms and breathe, breathe as he hardens inside me, breathe as his hips begin to roll into mine, breathe when he readjusts us, rolls me onto my back and makes me grip my thighs high and wide so he can fuck me hard then harder, wordless and painful in the near dark, kisses away my tears then adjusts his angle to batter me harder still until I’m sobbing out little punched out noises before he’s pulling out abruptly and spilling onto the sheet below me.  I choke on a desperate sound at the loss. I breathe through the shocky twitches when he leads me to the toilet to empty out, then to a warm shower to wash off.

     I breathe when he dries me, slow and careful, fondling my nipples and clit until I’m gasping with desire. I breathe when he leads me back to the bed, binds me down tight, tucks himself half-hard into my ass and falls asleep again. I breathe shakily through my despondency and desperation until I sleep too.  
     I wake with him between my thighs, suckling my clit, a single half-finger in my sopping pussy and sigh into the dark, breath catching when his suckling turns to teething, gently at first, then harder, then too hard and my hips try to wriggle away, then painfully hard until I cry out a little, then cry out louder when it feels like he’s begun to use sandpaper and only finishes with me when I sob out a plea. He blows gently over my clit, soft and soothing and gives me the rest of the finger, just deep enough to stab gently at my g-spot and begins gently suckling again.  
     I’m weeping at the wretched sweetness of it, want to cradle his head to keep him here, just here with me. He begins a slow deep stab inside when he starts teething my clit again and it’s wash, rinse, repeat until I’m sobbing and begging all over again, writhing uselessly under that sandpaper feeling, but he takes far longer to relent, gives me another thick finger, deep beside the first and starts _again_.  
     By the time he’s four fingers in, the sky is beginning to lighten and I do little else but twitch in pleasure/pain, rocking my hips into the torment of his lips and teeth for some( _any_ ) measure of solace, anything to ease the need. His own eyes are dark and damp as he watches my complete mental and emotional meltdown, with a look of lust and awe, like he’s calculating how long I have until I’m irrefutably broken and wants to watch when it happens.  
     When his thumb begins to tuck in with the others, my body finally revolts, hips jerking like mad to get away, my arms and shoulders stretching and bowing with spasms I have no control over. His thumb retreats but now he’s jackhammering those four fingers into me, fast and huge and uncompromising, curled a little so they only land near my g-spot and not on it. My entire body is wracking with sobs and _I can’t—_  I can’t cum and I can’t not and the burn of my stretched out pussy isn’t  enough and I’m _so close_ and too much and anything, _anything_ I’ll do anything, _Evan, please please_.  
     He shoves that plug from earlier into my pussy, too small to fill me but when he slips away to the side, he uses his thigh and strong hand to wretch my thighs wider, then spanks my cunt relentlessly, every stinging wet slap driving the plug sharply into me, but not where I need it until my body-wracking sobs are fine-tuned to this brutal assault - a sobbing wail of pain. He finally yanks it out, throws it, buries himself inside and just keeps going, thrusting that furious pain in until I’m screaming for a different reason, fighting both him and my climax before I’m genuinely begging, struggling to get away from this, from him because it’s too much, _please Evan stop, stop, Stop_.  
     He fucks me harder, gives no ground and when I open my lips to sob/scream he claps a hand over my mouth and we’re both crying, racing this wild feral thing homeward. I keep bucking, to knock him away or force him in further I don’t know but ‘no’ is no longer an option, hasn’t been since I gave him this, gave him me and he takes it all, paralyzes my voice until he fucks it away entirely, then fucks my silence away too. All I can remember is Evan and please but Evan is gone, steamrolled under the animal he has become.  
     He doesn’t relent, not even a little until I cum hard and unexpectedly, squirting out more than enough lube to last us days but he’s not coming til he’s damned well ready to, and that’s not now. He crawls up my chest, skull-fucks me until I gag, jacking the taste of sweat and maybe blood and himself into my throat until I taste the smallest splash, then he’s gone and I’m gasping and gulping in air until he rams hot and hard into my ass, a hand clamped over my mouth again, hikes up my thigh until he’s forcing himself so deep it batters my spine and I howl beneath his hand until he’s filling my ass with burning wet stickiness. Then he’s driving into my cunt again and again, through another orgasm and another after that and he’s whispering through his own gasping tears _Sam Sam Sam Sam_ and kisses me through my next climax and we’re locked together, like a hand gripping tight to an electric fence because neither of us can cease or retreat.  
     But we begin to slow, fraction by fraction and I’m clinging to him, my hands somehow finally free to claw into his back and shoulders, biting into his collarbone until he spills again with a sob of my name. He’s clawing into me too, clinging to me just as tight until all that’s left is Sam/Evan and Evan/Sam. He’s kissing me through our tears and I lock onto his ass to keep him here, right here, my forehead to his as we just rock and rock and rock. He does manage, finally, to fuck us both unconscious.

     Yet again, I wake with him inside me. Some parts of me are numb, some are hypersensitive but all I feel is him, heavy and limp on top of me. It’s me who gathers him close this time, to whisper praises and assurances into his sweaty hair, kiss away tears drying on his cheeks where I can reach them, just hold tight to this feeling of yes, yes, Evan, yes. He’s so heavy and he doesn’t respond because he’s not really in there. He can’t flee when he’s so deeply under, so I tell him. Of course I do.  
_Stay. Evan, stay. I love you, please please just stay_. Just stay. I roll us to our sides, gather him close to my breast, comfort whatever part of him still feels me. Wrap around him, tuck him close, kiss his brow and fall into an exhausted sleep, still clinging tight.

     He’s suckling my breast when I wake and it feels so right I sigh, threading my fingers gently into his hair to keep him close. I watch him for a long moment until he lifts his eyes to mine, a clear smoky hazel so peaceful, my eyes water and then he’s kissing me with impossibly gentle lips, slow and perfect and then he’s sliding into me and we both choke off a moan, hold still and tight until we’re dancing our hips together and I can’t not see him like this, peaceful and perfect and whole. Like me. Like he makes me. His eyes widen on his next roll, flips us and pulls me into his lap facing him, spreads me back over his crossed legs and keeps his hips rolling, which roll mine, which rolls into the curve of my back, then neck, then head, dancing my body with every gentle thrust.  
     “So beautiful,” he rasps out, watching me writhe for a minute, gently levers me up to sweetly take my nipple into his mouth and I clasp him close again, my hands threading into his tousled hair with a silent cry. He switches to the other, one strong arm supporting my back, the other roaming, caressing, sweeping over my thigh, my ass, my back, threading into my hair, holding me just as close. He lifts me again until he’s on his knees, still rolling tight into me, a deep perfect grind from my g-spot up to my cervix, soothing and powerful and then we’re kissing with tears on our cheeks at how complete and joyous this feels until he chokes out my name and we come, rolling into the swell, together.

     When I wake this time, he’s not in me ( _thank god_ ), and every muscle in my body aches plus a few new ones I didn’t even know existed.  His hands, where they’re resting on my ass squeeze lightly, then settle with his thumb doing that ‘comfort object’ little rub near my hip. His heartbeat under my cheek is loud and strong and steady.

     “This feels familiar,” I sigh, sneaking a hand around his waist to give a lazy half-hug.

     He huffs, his nose dipping into my hair at the top of my head.  “I’d say ‘intense’ again, but —“

     “But I’d have to hunt down a dictionary and _beat you with it_ ,” I finish.  I’m not even joking.  I would.  Just as soon as I could walk again.  He’s chuckling silently, chest jiggling a little under my cheek.

TBC...


End file.
